Opposites
by Soopremo
Summary: Jongin has always been taught to never jump into conclusions, but he never learns.
1. Chapter 1

**Opposites**

It's raining for the first time in months; the kind of rain that makes the cold air smell like dirt and drenched soil.

The sound of feet digging into pebbles fills the silence, only to be broken by a loud blaring. The noise echoes through the gray sky, sending crows above the ground and away from the fields.

"That's enough work for today, Jongin!"

Jongin almost misses Yixing's voice, but he's known the voice for too long that he thinks it would be possible for him to recognize it amidst a riot. He can even picture the old man smiling at him with the remnant of what used to be a dimple on his right cheek and a bowl of warm soup in his hands.

"Yeah, sure, _Pa_!" Jongin says, loud enough for the aged man to hear over the blaring that forewarned the end of working hours. Soon, all the _daylights_ would be turned off, and it would be dark again.

Jongin hooks fingers onto the belt loops of his worn-out navy blue overalls, stretching his neck upwards before wiping the cold sweat off his forehead and looking down disapprovingly at his own work. He's spent the last few days carving out a new wooden mirror frame. What it's used for, Jongin doesn't exactly know. Aside from being delivered into the depths of Central city, where the lights shone a hundred times brighter, Yixing has never told him where the frames actually go after they're polished with transparent varnish. What he does know is that making them is where he gets enough money to repay the old man for practically adopting him when his grandfather, Jongdae, left.

It's not that Jongin doesn't know what mirrors are. In fact, he's read a few pages about them from the only history textbook he owns, has sit through lectures concerning them, and has listened to Yixing's stories. Even Chanyeol, his best friend, knew about them, probably more than he did.

He knows that it serves as, somehow, a passage to _Dextro_; that it's what connects their world—Sinistro—to the people of Dextro by means of a portal. That's as far as the book, Chanyeol, and everybody else had told him.

And if there was anything else that Jongin learned, it was that the world he lives in lacked reflections.

"Come inside. You wouldn't want to catch a cold now, would you?" Yixing calls once more.

Humming his reply, Jongin picks up the black cloth that he'd left lying abandoned on the floor since morning and pulls it over to cover his work table. He takes off his gloves and turns off the light bulb before rushing inside the house and into the kitchen, welcoming the sudden change of temperature after having spent long hours at his working shack with a huge grin.

"What are you cooking, Pa?" Jongin asks as if he didn't already know the answer. Even when he was outside, he had already recognized the smell of Yixing's cooking from the sudden wafts of air that entered his cramped working shack. Maybe it was because Yixing rarely cooked for their meals. The old man only did so if there was a special holiday or something worth celebrating, and as far as Jongin knows, it was like that in other households too. Food was rationed: milk and eggs for the morning, moldy bread and aged meat in the afternoon, and peas and mashed potato for supper. Anyone who could afford to cook anything out of the menu for themselves everyday were considered fortunate.

Jongin takes the seat across the fireplace, lightly scraping the chair against the wooden floor. He's always taken a liking for watching Yixing cook.

"Chicken noodle soup, my child," Yixing says.

Jongin rolls his eyes at this, "I am not a child anymore, Pa. You know that, and what's it for anyway? It's not like there's a special occasion—"

"You not being a child anymore is exactly what we're celebrating. Happy birthday." Yixing smiles, placing a secured paper bag in front of Jongin.

It takes a moment, a few seconds, a light thud of ceramic plate against the wooden table, before Jongin completely comprehends what Yixing had just said. He hastily rolls up the sleeve of his left arm, stealing a glance at the numbers imprinted on his forearm before directing his gaze to the calendar beside the cupboard. His eyes focus on a date circled with red ink._ January__13__th_.

"Tomorrow you'll be taken to work at central town, Jongin," Yixing says. There's a melancholic lilt in his voice and it makes Jongin look away from the two digit number. "That's why we're celebrating your birthday today."

"I could try and ask for another year, Pa. I won't turn twenty till the fourteenth. I'm sure they could spare me another year."

"You know the system doesn't work that way," Yixing sighs. "I know why you don't want to go but, Jongin, I can manage on my own. You don't have to worry about me." He pushes a steaming bowl of soup in front of the other. "Besides, life within the city is better for youngsters like you."

"I don't care. I'm not leaving you alone here."

"As much as I want for you to stay, _they _will still come and take you away from me."

"No," Jongin mutters through gritted teeth. He knows he shouldn't be angry, knows that there's no point in being so because he wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

Ever since he was a kid, he has been taught that people are born and raised for the sole purpose of being deployed to work at Central city once they reach the age the government deemed old enough to work. He's known it and has been prepared for it ever since he stepped inside one of Sinistro's preparatory facilities, but he doesn't want to leave Yixing alone.

"Don't worry. Time flies fast, and before we even know it you'd be on a train ride towards home," Yixing says, to which Jongin doesn't answer.

"It won't in the city, Pa."

"Don't jump into conclusions, Jongin. Remember what your grandfather said."

"I don't even remember him well, and why should I when he disappeared on us?"

"Jongin!" Yixing raises his voice. He calms himself, clears his throat, when he sees the startled look on Jongin's face. "Your grandfather... he had his reasons."

Jongin stays silent after that, lips pressed into a thin line, fingers curled up into tight fists. He doesn't speak even after he and Yixing finish eating.

He's already inside his own room when Yixing calls for him outside the door. The said man comes inside even before Jongin could make up an excuse to keep him out.

"I have another gift for you," Yixing starts, one arm reaching for something behind him. He hands Jongin another wrapped box, something similar to the one he gave the younger earlier save from the dust that had clung to it like a second layer of wrapping paper. "It's from your grandfather. Jongdae told me to give it to you once you turn the right age."

A myriad of countless memories, ones he had with his grandfather, instantly hits Jongin as he takes the wrapped box away from Yixing's hands with caution. And Yixing doesn't miss the way Jongin dips his head down.

"I don't really know what's inside it, Jongdae never told me, but I'll leave that to you."

Yixing leaves Jongin alone and even then, Jongin doesn't open his grandfather's present. He leaves the box on the corner of his study table, opting to open Yixing's instead and, as expected, he finds used art materials inside the paper bag. A couple of spent charcoal pens, half-finished erasers, and a fountain pen roll out before him as he turns the paper bag over.

He brings out the rest of his art supplies, picks the darkest shade of charcoal, and starts working. His fingers become smudged as he tries to emulate the night outside his wooden window, pressing crooked lines and noise onto the canvas. He doesn't stop until the picture looks exactly like the grimy landscape of Central city, all tall black buildings etched to fit against white smoke and gray clouds.

And Jongin draws, and draws, and draws, until the buildings look more like the vertical lines on his forearm, under them a series of numbers that still don't make sense to him even though he's had them for almost twenty years.

Maybe it's his date of birth. No it couldn't be, since his birthdate clearly doesn't match the numbers on his skin. Maybe it's an expiration date, the date of his death, Jongin thinks, comparing the mark on his hand to the barcodes he's seen on the milk that gets delivered at their doorstep every morning.

Sighing, Jongin puts the charcoal pen down. He reclines on his chair, stares at his forearm once again, before directing his gaze towards the wooden window by his bedside. The night has gotten cold, its harsh wind blowing against green curtains.

Jongin stands to turn the light off, allowing the full moon to illuminate half of his room. Its light embeds harsh shadows onto the wooden floor and Jongin thinks that this is one of the things he'll surely miss once he starts living in the city. He'll miss the way the floorboard creaks with his every step, the way his bed dips as he lies unto it, and the way music fills his ears as he closes his eyes—

Music. Jongin sits up. The sound doesn't die down even after a minute, so he stands up to look out of the window, but he doesn't find anyone or anything responsible for the muffled sound that's echoing against the dirty, white-washed walls of his room.

Jongin checks the outside of his door, only to be greeted by the low humming of the TV downstairs. He's about to give up when he passes by his study table, where the sound grows noticeably louder, as if it's ringing just behind his ears. It's coming from his grandfather's gift, Jongin thinks.

He rips a small portion of the wrapping, pinches and pulls paper in between his fingers, lifts the box, and—the music stops. Puzzled, Jongin completely unwraps and opens his grandfather's gift and what he sees is something he didn't expect to receive, especially from his grandfather.

It glistens under the moonlight; it _reflects_ light and sticks to his sweaty palms as Jongin carefully turns it around his hands. He vaguely remembers having seen something like it in his history book and also from the documentaries about Dextro.

And it's only when Jongin sees skin, his face, on the surface of the _thing _once he brings it up against the moonlight does he realize that his grandfather had given him a mirror_._

* * *

"A 'reflection' is the return of light or sound waves from a surface that produces an image or a representation. By now, my students, I trust you all know that," Jongin remembers his class' teacher say one rainy day, so suddenly, so out of the blue. "And it would also be good to know that in our world, a 'reflection' directly correlates to a counterpart."

Jongin remembers wanting to raise a hand and ask questions.

"There's a reason why all of Sinistro is only made up of either rock, marble, or wood. That is because we, the people of Sinistro, simply don't want to meddle with our reflections."

Back then, Jongin didn't understand.

* * *

Jongin puts the mirror back down onto his study table, pushing it slightly each time in an attempt to locate where it had stood earlier. It had some kind of bars attached to its sides which was also a part of its stand, allowing it to remain upright. Jongin remembers seeing something similar from Yixing's own collection of mirror frames, except this one didn't have the actual frame; it only had the stand. It was also smaller compared to what he and Yixing usually carve, only about as big as Jongin's history textbook.

Jongin continues trying to find the mirror's previous spot and it's on the fifth push that he hears the sound again, sonorous and clear, resounding against the corners of his room, no longer muffled. And when Jongin looks into the glass, he's greeted by the face of a male with closed eyes and parted lips.

The boy doesn't seem to notice his presence, Jongin realizes as he continues to stare into the glass. And with a limited view, it's not hard for Jongin to take in the other male's delicate features.

There's snow white hair covering the tips of the boy's eyebrows, each strand seamless against his pale skin. His lips are plump, parted, and mouthing words of encouragement: 'you can do this', 'you've practiced this', 'you won't disappoint them'.

"Hello?" Jongin starts, and it makes the other boy's eyes flutter wide open. There's a momentary shock, a pause where Jongin's eyes meet with dark ones, before the face before him disappears and the music stops once again.

The boy reappears shortly after, with eyes wider than before and lips no longer mouthing silent words.

Jongin doesn't know what had pushed him to try and initiate a conversation with a person from Dextro. Maybe it was because he wanted to see what the other boy's eye looked like when opened, he's not entirely sure, but whatever the reason was, he couldn't possibly stop now. "You're from Dextro," he continues and it sounds more of a thought to himself than a decent start of a conversation.

The boy blinks, and Jongin tunes everything out when he spots the boy opening his mouth to speak. "And you're from... the other side."

Jongin arches an eyebrow._ The other side?_

"Sinistro," the boy bites his lips, eyes looking to his right as if to recall a distant memory, some learned information, "a place full of workers who live their lives to serve the people of Dextro. It is a place ultimately different from Dextro for it lacks in class, discipline, and the arts."

"And to think that my people actually thought the ones of your kind were polite." Jongin scoffs, taken aback.

The boy's eyes widen into something akin to panic. He doesn't blink. "It's what I learned from school. I am terribly sorry if I offended you."

"It's okay." Jongin smiles wryly, admiring how the other's black eyes complimented his eyes and his skin. "I'm Kim Jongin."

"I'm Kyungsoo, Do Kyungsoo."

"Seems like there's quite a party going on in there."

"Yes." The boy—Kyungsoo—nods, moving aside to let Jongin see the view behind him. "There's an orchestra playing right now, outside this powder room. I'm actually about to perform a piano piece later, since it's my birthday and all."

And Jongin finally understands what the muted encouragements from earlier were for. "Happy birthday, then, and good luck! I'm sure you'd do well. After all, you're from Dextro."

The remark makes Kyungsoo smile, lips stretching out into a heart and eyes folding into crescents. Jongin thinks he'd like to see Kyungsoo smile more often if he were to see the other boy again.

"Kyungsoo!" Jongin hears a voice call, and he watches as Kyungsoo turns his head and scrambles to get to the door.

"I have to go. It was nice meeting you!" Kyungsoo says frantically.

And just like that, the portal disappears again.

* * *

The following day arrives shortly, with Jongin still awake and just in time to witness the view outside his window change as the _daylights _turn on one after another. It's already five, the certain hour where people usually decide that they've had enough of the dark. The whole thing had always felt and sounded like being under stadium lights to Jongin as he'd normally wake up to this hour of the day, but it's because of what happened the night before that he was unable to sleep.

He's been lying awake for hours trying to make himself believe that what happened was just a dream, but the mirror on his bedside and the memory of Kyungsoo's smile made it hard for him to do so.

A knock on the door tears Jongin away from his thoughts, and it's not until he opens the door and sees the sad look on Yixing's face does he remember that today is January 13th.

"Have you packed your things?" Yixing asks.

Jongin sees how Yixing's hand is wrapped tightly over the doorknob. "No. Not yet, Pa."

"Then you better start packing! And take a shower while you're at it!" Yixing exclaims as he playfully hits Jongin's arm. His smile doesn't quite reach his face, and Jongin knows that it's because of him leaving. "I'll be at the kitchen preparing breakfast and you'd better be down after thirty minutes, young man."

"Okay, Pa." Jongin smiles, mentally adding Yixing's scoldings as one of the things he's certainly going to miss while he's away.

Right after showering, Jongin fits everything he deems important into a burlap sack: clothes, his toothbrush, and a few art materials. Just when he's sure everything's set, his eyes wander towards his study table.

He places the mirror back inside its box, reassures himself that it's just because his grandfather gave it, and takes it with him.

They eat silently, with only the occasional sound of silverware clanging against ceramic to accentuate the growing silence between them. Jongin stares at the eggs on his plate. Yixing chose to poach them today, and Jongin thinks their yolks resemble the prying eyes of a night owl. Jongin pokes them with a fork, watches in amusement as the yolks bleed together, turning his plate into some sort of yellow sea with white islands. He eats them all after, drinks his milk, and grimaces at the flavor it brings to the back of his mouth.

Jongin steals a glance at Yixing who's staring distantly at the arrangement of family photos on the shelf beside their television set. Jongin follows his gaze and he finds that Yixing is looking at the photos of Jongdae, again.

Yixing decides to turn on the TV just in time for the local news to greet them a practiced 'Good Morning'.

"There has been a reported power shortage due to the addition of new daylights outside the wall and at the north of Central City. The Ministry of Supply have said that they are working on the issue and that citizens need not to worry about problems concerning electricity. Meanwhile, crime rates..." the monotonous voice of the reporter squeezes through the silence, and Jongin watches with doubt as Yixing flips through different channels, as if he didn't knew that there was no other channel but the local news.

The TV is turned off later when a faint blowing of a horn is heard from outside the house. Yixing peeps through the curtains, and Jongin instantly knew what it was once Yixing's eyes meet his own.

A deep sigh leaves Yixing's mouth as he walks Jongin towards the front door, "Ready?"

Jongin nods, dipping his chin.

And Yixing pulls him into a tight hug. "I'm going to miss you. So much."

Jongin attempts to hug back, wrapping his arms around the Yixing and placing his chin on Yixing's shoulder.

He wonders if he'll ever get to feel this kind of warmth in the city.

Jongin walks out of the door, putting his burlap bag over his shoulder as he bids Yixing goodbye. The air outside their house is cold, and Jongin pulls the sack closer to his head. He walks through the field, using his other arm to keep blades of wheat away from his face. If he squints, he can see a swarm of people boarding a bus, and one by one the crowd decreases until the only thing Jongin sees is the closing of the bus' door.

He runs, sending crows flying over his head. He's only a mile away from concrete pavement, and he gets in front of the bus' doors just before the vehicle moves.

The rusty bus door makes a hissing sound, like smoke was to come out from it, as it folds and opens for Jongin. Behind it is a set of equally rusty steps and a man whose face seemed to surpass the vehicle's age.

"Come on now. We haven't got all day!" the man grumbles.

The bus was gray like the skin of a kicked tin can, and with the chains over its headlights, it looked hostile. If Jongin didn't know better, he was sure he'd mistake it for a prison bus or a ride towards an asylum.

Jongin hops in, and the first thing that greets him is a fit of laughter coming from back of the bus. The lights flicker as the door closes behind him and the bus' engine starts. He barely gets to the middle of the vehicle when it starts moving again. Indifferent glares meet Jongin's face as he walks down the aisle; it was as if everyone was telling him that he wasn't the only who disliked the idea of working in the city.

An arm lands roughly around Jongin's neck, making his head lurch forwards unceremoniously. He turns his head around, and sees a familiar face. One that belonged to his former classmate, Oh Sehun.

"Hey man, you gotta hear this. Chanyeol's talking nonsense again."

Jongin coaxes the other guy's arm off his nape as he searches for the familiar bowl of hair among the crowd of people before him. He finds Chanyeol near the back of the bus, where the laughter from earlier had come from, and he watches as said guy chatters with great enthusiasm in his eyes.

"So the real reason why we only experience dark here at Sinistro is because we are actually Dextro's opposite! If artificial lighting is needed here at Sinistro, then our opposite needs artificial darkness!" Chanyeol says, rather too eagerly.

"And how do you know about this?" one of the guys beside Chanyeol asks.

To which Chanyeol responds proudly, "From my dad. He used to work at The Ministry of Knowledge."

"Wasn't your dad only a janitor there?" another guy pipes in, causing another burst of laughter from the circle of people that had gathered around Chanyeol.

Even Sehun was chuckling beside Jongin.

"I can't believe this dork actually had the guts to act smart just because his father worked at The Ministry of Knowledge." The guy opposite from Chanyeol stands up, walking towards the latter who had his head down. "Tell you what, weirdo, your dad was only a janitor!"

"Hey, hey, cut it out. What's your problem, man?" Sehun comes to Chanyeol's side, just in time to elbow the guy away. The guy backs away, fortunately, but not until he spares Sehun a look that made the bags under his eyes look a bit more frightening.

Jongin grabs Chanyeol by the arm and hauls him from the back of the bus, earning him more glares, except this time, they weren't the least bit disinterested. They take the unoccupied row by the middle of the bus. Jongin claims the seat by the window frame, leaving Chanyeol no option but to take the seat beside him.

"So your father's a janitor, huh?" Jongin scoffs, earning him a light punch on the shoulder from Chanyeol.

"Like you didn't know."

Chanyeol was right, Jongin did know. He knew a lot about the other male, like how he's lactose-intolerant and therefore had to save moldy bread from the night before for breakfast, or how he practically grew up hearing stories about Dextro from both his father and grandfather. Chanyeol was his best friend, after all.

Chanyeol shoves something in front of Jongin's face, and Jongin turns when he feels it touch his cheek. "Want some of my bread?"

"No. No, thank you—just—" Jongin shakes Chanyeol off with a hand. "Just stop creeping and stay away from the others. They won't understand you."

"Okay, sure." Chanyeol munches on his bread, pursing his lips. "They're true, though. The things about Dextro."

Jongin wakes up to the usual seventeen o'clock alarm, with his cheek plastered against the metallic sides of the window frame, wind blowing against his hair, and Chanyeol's weight on his left arm. He looks out of the window and finds that they've just arrived inside Central City.

Up close, Central City feels entirely like a whole different place; the lights shone brigther, the smoke thicker, and the people were busier. Their bus passes through a bustling street of vendors, and Jongin inches away from the window frame as people with baskets shout their products into the bus' every opening. He doesn't escape the hand that grabs him by collar, though; one that belonged to a woman with gold teeth.

"Your palm tells me something big is awaiting you, boy. A choice—"

Jongin manages to free himself from the woman's grip and for the first time during the day, he's thankful that the bus was moving.

They reach the inner part of the city in no time. Chanyeol had already woke up and was now pushing against Jongin in an attempt to get a glimpse of the numerous skyscrapers towering up above them.

"Wow. It surely looks more alive in person," Chanyeol says with the tone of an amazed gradeschooler.

And Jongin doesn't really agree with him. The city was pretty much the opposite in his eyes for it looked like the product of an amateur artist who had a thing for grunge, but he had to admit, its infrastructures was worth the attention they're getting.

Their bus halts in front of a particularly high one squeezed in between two buildings with the same height and exterior.

"Okay, I want you all to split into three equal groups. Take your bags and line up outside," the bus' crackly speakers boom, shaking the vehicle's walls and waking up all of those who were still asleep. Jongin barely even recalls noting that the bus had speakers, but he doesn't need to confirm the fact once he hears military music floating from the said speakers. The music reaches the outside of the bus as both Jongin and Chanyeol step out of the vehicle, following the others who got off before them.

They end up being part of the second group, and were shortly escorted into the middle building by a woman who was wearing an army green blazer and a pencil skirt. She was holding a pen, lightly clicking it to the clipboard in her other hand.

"I would like to welcome everyone to Unit 23. Starting from today, this building will serve as your home."

* * *

"This doesn't seem so bad, does it?" Chanyeol says, breathing in comically with arms spread wide as he drops his bags onto the floor.

Jongin had ended up being roommates with Chanyeol, much to his luck, and they were given a room on the building's topmost floor.

"The wind sure feels nice here," Chanyeol continues.

Jongin had expected that, considering that they were thirty storeys above ground. A particularly strong gust of wind enters through the window frames, blowing hard over the room's walls and making its peeling wallpaper break into some kind of paper applause. The walls stood on cement, which stretched enough to fit basic furniture inside the room.

"Yeah, it could be worse," Jongin mutters as he glances over the bunk bed where Chanyeol was currently sitting on.

Beside the bunk bed was a dresser, and the next thing Jongin sees is a cheap TV set in the middle of the room. Situated in front of it was a low table that had a vase with fake tulips, a complimentary centerpiece. There was no kitchen, and only a small bathroom stood on the place Jongin thinks is where it should be.

Jongin takes the lower part of the bunk bed as soon as he sees Chanyeol struggling to climb the ladder to the upper bed. Chanyeol wasn't going to like having the lower part anyway. He was too tall, which meant he'd have to wake up and live daily with a new bump on his head.

"Know what yours mean?" Chanyeol asks upon lying down with a thud, causing the bed to give out a creak.

Jongin looks out of the window frame in front of them, to the cityscape. "Know the meaning of what?"

"The numbers on your forearm."

"No," Jongin answers, briefly recalling what had happened earlier as they were being sorted into groups and rooms. "But didn't the lady call them as our 'working numbers'?"

"Yes, she did, but I just... I don't think it's enough, you know? Considering that we were born with it already inked on our skin. I just think it couldn't be _just _that."

Jongin nods, knowing where this was heading. "So what do you think it means then?"

There's a pause and a heavy sigh before Jongin hears Chanyeol's answer.

"My grandfather told me that the numbers would glow once we meet our other half for the first time, but we'd have to be over twenty to see it happen. He told me it had happened to him once. Sounds cheesy right?"

Jongin only lets out a small laugh.

"I thought so too. But after hearing about our world being the exact opposite of Dextro, it suddenly sounded quite logical to me."

Jongin spares a look at his forearm, and he suddenly thinks about the other night.

"You probably think I'm talking nonsense again." Chanyeol laughs. "Well, we better get some rest. We're going to be assigned to our workstations tomorrow."

Jongin nods, and he falls asleep wondering if he'll ever get to see the boy from Dextro again.

A strong nudge to the stomach sends Jongin jolting awake and hitting his head against the bed frame above him. Jongin curses upon hearing Chanyeol's irritating laughter. He attempts to throw a pillow at Chanyeol, but the latter only catches it with his hands. He threw it too weakly.

Chanyeol calms down to giggling as he throws the pillow back at Jongin. "Wake up! Breakfast is here."

"We're currently here outside The Ministry of Supply as yet another power shortage was reported to have happened just before seventeen o'clock yesterday," the Local News reports as soon as Chanyeol turns the TV on.

"It'd be bad luck if we were to be assigned under The Ministry of Supply. It must be hectic out there nowadays," Chanyeol says as he fiddles with the remote and changes the channel.

The TV was smaller than the one Jongin and Yixing had back at home, but it still had the same grainy screen, still showed images of only black-and-white. Aside from the size, the only difference was the fact that it had an additional channel which, Jongin learned, was exclusively for people living inside the city: the shopping channel.

Jongin manages a nod as he staggers to get in front the coffee table and eat breakfast. There had been a knock on their door at exactly five thirty. Chanyeol was the one who opened the door and found out that this was how they're meals were going to be distributed, already cooked and packed. Today, it was scrambled eggs.

"So where do you want to work?" Jongin asks as Chanyeol hands him his own bottle of milk.

Chanyeol barely got to chewing his food when he points at a building outside their window frame. "There."

It was a sleek black tower in the middle of the city. Jongin recognized the building right away, as it was the first thing one would notice when looking at the cityscape: the central tower.

"Are you serious? It looks scary," Jongin asks in disbelief upon noticing that the tower had no window frames. Its black exterior contrasted sharply against Central City's squalid architectural backdrop, as if its height wasn't enough to make it noticeable. It was the highest among all the skyscrapers, soaring up terrace after terrace, effortlessly dwarfing every other building that surrounded it.

He was sure that the building and whatever jobs it had to offer wouldn't suit Chanyeol.

Jongin has never been so wrong.

He rolls his eyes at Chanyeol's smug face, placing his meal on top of a vacant table before dropping his weight on one of its chairs. Chanyeol follows suit, and he takes the seat in front of Jongin.

"Will you stop smiling?" Jongin mock-hisses, "You're creeping out the others."

They're currently at central tower's only canteen and it's only because they were told to do so—to take a break after the short briefing. It turns out Jongin was going to work with Chanyeol at the same building. It was unsurprising, really, as he'd somehow expected it after they were appointed as roommates.

But it surely wasn't the reason why Chanyeol was grinning so widely, successfully establishing himself as an odd one the first day at work. Jongin thinks it has to do with the job the other was assigned to since when he asked Chanyeol, the latter only smiled and told him that it was 'confidential'.

Jongin chooses to ignore Chanyeol in the end, opting to focus on his meal instead. They were given metal trays as they lined up by the counter earlier, and on it were food Jongin had only tasted once or twice a year back at home. He remembers the man, who toured them around the tower, say that this was the government's way of keeping their workers healthy.

Sooner than expected, a bell rings and both Chanyeol and Jongin watch as all the others stand up, march away from their seats, and towards their respective floors. Jongin only wishes he wouldn't have to do that in the future.

"Those who've only just arrived this morning can now return to their home units," the man from earlier says, holding out a finger as if to point at someone. His hand stops at some guy, and then to Chanyeol. "except you two."

Jongin steals a glance at Chanyeol, searching for any signs of panic that may tell him what's going on, but he doesn't find any.

Chanyeol nods without glancing over at Jongin. He walks promptly out of the cafeteria, following the commander's steps as Jongin gets escorted out of the building.

* * *

It's out of boredom that Jongin decides to pull out the mirror and place it on the coffee table. He stares at it, deciding that it's the best way to kill time since there wasn't really anything interesting to do.

After half an hour, he moves it to another place. And he does this relentlessly for three hours, already half-thinking that it's silly.

After another hour, just when the daylights were switched off, the mirror turns into a portal. Jongin looks at it from across the room; he's been walking around aimlessly while waiting for something to happen. On top of the dresser, the mirror almost looks like a torn part of a painting about Dextro, a smudge of color inside the room's monochrome interior.

Jongin rushes towards it, holding its stand to keep it from shaking from to his steps. He looks into the mirror, with his breath held against his chest, and the first thing he hears is a little gasp.

"It's you."

"Kyungsoo," Jongin breathes out. The said guy was in front of him, again, with his white hair stuck to one side of his face. "It's me, Jongin. From the other night, remember?"

There was no music this time, only the silence between them as Jongin waits for the other to response.

Kyungsoo slowly nods. "Yes."

"How—How have you been?"

"I'm sorry," Kyungsoo starts, eyes meeting Jongin's gaze. "but this was a mistake. I... thought I was only going to meet you once."

Jongin stares back. "What do you mean?"

"You're from the other side. I'm not allowed to talk to you."

The words sounded brutal, instantly creating an invisible barrier between the two worlds, but they were not enough to faze Jongin.

"But you already did," he quips, and it makes Kyungsoo blink. "So what if I'm from Sinistro anyway?"

Jongin feels himself shrink as Kyungsoo tilts his head to the side, looking as if he was scrutinizing every inch of his being. "Well, you don't look like you're one of the guys from my history book. You hardly look like a criminal."

"Why does it seem like all of your history books make my world sound like some sort of a prison ward?" Jongin asks indignantly.

"Isn't it? They say there's never a day without crime at Sinistro."

Jongin notices how the string of words rolled off of Kyungsoo's tongue. It was as if the other was trained to say the words exactly like how it sounded—with disgust. "Only if you let yourself see them," Jongin says.

They don't speak for a while. Jongin is keeping his head down, so he doesn't see the male before him. Kyungsoo's lips are pressed into a thin line and he only opens it when he finally catches Jongin looking at him.

"I don't believe them," Kyungsoo starts, combing his fingers through his white hair. "I mean, I bet my teachers haven't met someone from Sinistro. I've had, and so far, I don't think you're a bad person."

This makes Jongin smile, rather too tightly, and he looks up to show it to Kyungsoo.

"You're the only one who greeted me a happy birthday," Kyungsoo continues.

"Return the favor by greeting me today, then."

And Kyungsoo does, smiling up at Jongin with his heart-shaped lips. They end the conversation after that, with Kyungsoo excusing himself, saying that he had to take a shower to be in time for breakfast.

Jongin knows it's unlikely, but the air before Kyungsoo left felt like a promise to talk again.

With Kyungsoo leaving early, Jongin is given enough time to put the mirror away just before Chanyeol bursts through the door, holding two metal trays in his hand, his bag hanging loosely off one shoulder.

"You didn't bring the food in?"

Jongin shakes his head, saying that he didn't hear a knock on the door. He places the food on the coffee table and waits for Chanyeol to change from their gray work outfits into their thin gray 'comfort' outfits.

"So, how do portals work?" Jongin asks as soon as Chanyeol plops down in front of him.

Chanyeol was still wearing the grin he had on his face, albeit smaller than earlier.

They've long turned down the TV as an option for entertainment, and Jongin sees this as an opportunity to know more about the world Chanyeol has always been fascinated with.

There's a flicker of eagerness in Chanyeol's eyes and he takes a mouthful of beans before speaking. "They simply let you cross the other world—"

"No, I didn't mean that. Like, what does one need to create a portal?"

"It'd have to do with mirrors or anything that can reflect images, of course." Chanyeol picks up the cup from his right and drinks, as if to push the beans down his throat and to his stomach. "There has to be two mirrors standing on the same spot of the two worlds. And those mirrors shouldn't have mirror frames."

Jongin points at the dresser. "You mean to say that if I had a mirror there, there has to be a mirror on the same spot of the other world?"

"Yeah."

"Wait, you said portals can be opened by anything that can hold reflections. Does it mean it can work with water?"

"I don't think so, since water molecules are too unstable. Like this... cup of water." Chanyeol points at the cup beside Jongin. "Even if there's a cup of water placed on the same spot as this one's at Dextro, it'd be quite impossible for all their molecules to be at the same position at the same time."

Chanyeol sighs as he watches Jongin blink. "If we could see the worlds together it'd probably look like mirrored images. It makes the 'opposite worlds' theory seem plausible, don't you think?"

"I didn't know it was a theory."

Jongin sees the way Chanyeol visibly swallows, but he doesn't say anything.

Chanyeol clears his throat, putting his utensils on top of his metal tray and wiping his hands on his shirt. "Why the sudden interest, though?"

Jongin places his utensils down too. He grabs Chanyeol's metal tray and stacks it on top of his. "I was just curious."

Chanyeol takes the dishes and puts it outside their door, heading to get something from his bag as soon as he gets back inside. "If you're so curious, then I might as well let you have this."

A book lands squarely on top of Jongin's lap. He turns the book over to read its title; it's a book about Dextro.

"Are you sure you don't need this?" Jongin asks.

"I've already read it before," Chanyeol says, smiling, "Consider it as my birthday gift to you. You didn't think I forgot, did you?"

"Almost." Jongin smiles back.

* * *

Carving wooden mirror frames has never been a chore to Jongin, but working at central tower makes it one. He feels as if he'd become one of the few machines around the twenty-fifth floor. With the number of workers around, Jongin was given a repetitive job: slicing through wood with a specialized knife in his hand. It was a job, a routine, Jongin could do without the need to think much.

He'd cut and cut and cut through wood like a mindless drone, static ringing incessantly inside his head. But the day ends faster this way, Jongin thinks. On the brighter side, the daylights would be turned off soon and the alarm would be rung. On the brighter side, he'd be home soon to talk to Kyungsoo.

Jongin meets Chanyeol by the hallway after the seventeen o' clock alarm goes off. Chanyeol looks breathless as he runs towards Jongin; there's sweat sticking to his forehead. He tells Jongin that he came from the topmost floor and had to run down ten floors because the elevators ended at the thirtieth floor. He tells Jongin to go home first because his work shift doesn't end for another hour.

Jongin does go home first, completely giving up on finding out Chanyeol's job.

He puts the mirror back on top of the dresser, and after a few minutes, like promised, Kyungsoo's face comes into view.

"Hello, good morning—it's morning here at Dextro. How are you?" Kyungsoo greets.

Jongin smiles fondly at the formality of it. "Hey."

He takes a moment to take in Kyungsoo's face. Kyungsoo's hair is messy again, beautifully mussed up in more ways that it should. There's a light coming from Kyungsoo's left side, and it casts shadows down on his face. Whether it's warm or not inside Kyungsoo's room, Jongin doesn't exactly know; he can't feel something from the other world.

"I'm fine. I just got home from work," Jongin says.

"You work? What do you do?" Kyungsoo then asks, almost incredulously.

"I work as a wood carver at central tower. I carve wooden frames."

"Oh, we also have a building called central tower here at Dextro, but I don't really know what happens in there. They say it's for importing materials from your world," Kyungsoo says. "But aren't you too young to work?"

"Not really, I just turned twenty yesterday, and it has been a tradition for people to start working at the age of twenty here at Sinistro," Jongin elaborates, watching as Kyungsoo nods. "How about you? What do you do?"

"I am learning to be a good pianist. My father has always wanted a son who was good with instruments, with the piano."

"But you like it, right? Playing the piano."

There's silence, a knock on Kyungsoo's door, before Jongin receives Kyungsoo's answer.

"Yes."

It's what their meetings are made of. Jongin comes home straight from work every day, and Kyungsoo would always be there with his bed hair and smiling face. Each day they would learn more about each other, theirs and their world's differences. And each day would always end after Jongin asks Kyungsoo if 'he's happy' and with Kyungsoo answering 'yes' before excusing himself for a shower, breakfast, piano lessons, or family matters. But Jongin doesn't mind.

Jongin tells Kyungsoo about Yixing, about his grandfather Jongdae and how he managed to acquire a mirror. He finds out that Kyungsoo talks to him through a mirror of his own, one that he decided to take out of its frame during his birthday. He was restless that day, Kyungsoo had said. Jongin also learned that their first meeting was at an opera house, and that since the incident Kyungsoo decided to take the mirror to home with him.

One day, Kyungsoo asks Jongin if he ever had an aspiration or if people at Sinistro were even allowed to dream of other things than working in the city. Jongin answers him with a smile.

"Yes. And no, the government has no control over our minds, thankfully."

Kyungsoo laughs at that. "So what do you want to be?"

"I've always wanted to be an artist," Jongin says without hesitation, as if the words have always been waiting to come out of his mouth.

"You do art?"

"Yeah, with charcoal. But sometimes whenever Pa finds me tubes of acrylic, I paint too."

Kyungsoo hums, and Jongin clears his throat.

"What about you? Do you have dreams other than becoming Dextro's greatest pianist?"

"Actually... what I really want to be is a singer." Kyungsoo heaves a heavy sigh, averting his eyes from Jongin's questioning ones. "But I don't think that's possible now, right?"

Jongin shakes his head. "My grandfather always told me to never jump into conclusions. I think you should learn from him too."

Kyungsoo ends up singing for Jongin that day.

They would always talk, face to face, and sometimes upside down because Jongin would choose to lie on his back while talking and leave Kyungsoo with no choice to do so too. Neither of them ever dares to pass through the portal, not until one day when Jongin ends up laughing after Kyungsoo tells him an old folktale from his world.

"Pardon me, but is something funny? Why are you laughing?"

"Nothing," Jongin breathes out. "I just thought you sounded like an old man."

Kyungsoo doesn't look a bit offended. "Haven't I've been like this from the start?"

"Yeah, but I've just noticed it now." Jongin watches pink rise over Kyungsoo's cheeks. It makes him want to make it a shade deeper. "And your hair is covering your eyes."

Jongin doesn't really know why but he reaches his hand out, towards Kyungsoo. He watches as his hand disappears slowly, reappearing only as a reflection from the other side. Every skin that meets the mirror makes it feel as if he's dipping his hand into a bucket of ice cold water and then pulling it out to let the warm air thaw away the chill. He continues reaching out, aimlessly, until his whole forearm has gone into the portal, until he can feel Kyungsoo's hair against his skin.

Jongin brushes away the fringe that's covering Kyungsoo's eyes. His hand hovers over Kyungsoo's head and he lets it rest there gently, almost hesitantly.

"Can I?" Jongin asks. And when Kyungsoo nods, Jongin moves to card his fingers through the other's white hair, just to see if it was as soft as he'd imagined.

Jongin feels something stir in his stomach as he watches Kyungsoo lean against his touch with his eyes closed. Kyungsoo puts his hand over Jongin's, and Jongin lets his hand linger for a while before pulling it out, making Kyungsoo open his eyes.

But they close again as soon as Jongin pushes his lips against Kyungsoo's, mouths meeting in a chaste kiss. Jongin tilts his chin to slot his lips against Kyungsoo's, and he can feel Kyungsoo smile against his mouth. And it all happens fast, like the drumming against Jongin's chest and the warmth rushing to his cheeks.

Jongin pulls away when he hears the usual knock on Kyungsoo's door.

"Are you happy?" Jongin asks like he always does.

"Yes," Kyungsoo answers, putting a hand to cover his face as if to hide his reddening skin. It's the first time Kyungsoo answered without having to think twice.


	2. Chapter 2

The portal doesn't open for days.

"Are you okay?" the sound of Chanyeol's voice wakes Jongin up, pulling him out from his mind's quicksand of thoughts.

Jongin's eyes are trained on the wooden surface before him, vision gradually focusing and unfocusing from lack of sleep. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath before looking up at Chanyeol.

"You've been spacing out a lot," Chanyeol adds, temples scrunching up in concern.

"I'm okay. Just having trouble sleeping lately," Jongin answers rather too quickly, but he says it with enough conviction for Chanyeol to end up buying it anyway, eventhough only half of it was true.

It's the fourth day since the portal last opened, and Jongin's been spending night after night coming up with possible reasons behind Kyungsoo's disappearance.

He thinks that maybe Kyungsoo has just been busy with his piano lessons, maybe Kyungsoo accidentally broke his mirror, or maybe Kyungsoo has chosen to avoid him after what happened during their last meeting. Whatever the reason is, Jongin finds out when the portal opens up again on the sixth day.

"What happened?" Jongin asks, dropping all of their routine greetings, as soon as Kyungsoo's face appears before him.

Kyungsoo's eyes are wet, and Jongin feels as if he's been given the answer as soon as his attention land on the purplish bruise on Kyungoo's face.

"What happened?" Jongin doesn't think twice as he reaches a hand towards the other's face. His fingers graze over the bruise, lifting slightly when Kyungsoo winces the touch. "Who did this to you?"

"Nobody—I got hit by a ball on the face real hard. Children were playing soccer as I passed by," Kyungsoo explains, angling his head as if the action would alleviate the sting.

"You're lying," Jongin says, to which Kyungsoo replies with a weak smile.

"I am, but you don't really need to know why."

"Kyungsoo—"

"I missed you, Jongin." Kyungsoo inches his face towards Jongin's, breath brushing against the other's lips. "Can you do something for me?"

Jongin's eyes wander back towards the sudden burst of violet on Kyungsoo's right cheekbone. The bruise blends perfectly with Kyungsoo's porcelain skin, and if it weren't for the way Kyungsoo winced earlier when Jongin touched it, Jongin would think that it's just a discoloration caused by the cold weather at Dextro.

Jongin closes his eyes, reopening it only to focus on Kyungsoo's black ones.

"Anything."

"Are you sure?" Kyungsoo asks.

Jongin finds himself holding his breath. "Yes."

A series of instructions come out of Kyungsoo's mouth, each telling Jongin to move the mirror towards a certain direction. Soon, Jongin realizes that Kyungsoo is making him move their mirrors together in a way that would allow them to not lose the portal.

Kyungsoo's voice is almost inaudible amidst the loud beating inside Jongin's chest, and the next thing Jongin knows is that he's lying on his bed, holding the mirror up in front of his face, just enough so that Kyungsoo was looking down at him.

Without warning, Kyungsoo pushes their lips together, and Jongin has to suppress a breath when he feels Kyungsoo's tongue swipe over his lips. The kiss feels hasty, sloppy, as if Kyungsoo's actually afraid of the usual knock on his door this time.

Kyungsoo orders Jongin to move the mirror down as he leaves a trail of butterfly kisses against Jongin's skin—starting from his jaw, to his neck, and to the dip between his shoulder blades. A cold hand replaces Kyungsoo's lips as the mirror goes down to Jongin's clothed chest, and it stops just below Jongin's stomach, with Kyungsoo making it a point to sneak a hand under the tanned boy's shirt.

Jongin bites hard on his bottom lip in fear of disturbing people from the neighboring people when he feels Kyungsoo's cold touch against his heated skin, and he arches his back when cold fingers start to play his nipples. His free hand struggles to grip at something. He badly wants to tug at Kyungsoo's hair, but their mirrors only make way for either Kyungsoo's hand or head.

Soon, Kyungsoo's hand abandons Jongin's skin, going down to palm the growing tent in Jongin's gray sweatpants. And Jongin curses under his breath when Kyungsoo slides a hand into his pants and past the waistband of his underwear.

"Kyungsoo," Jongin calls out in an attempt to slow things down, to stop Kyungsoo, but his voice comes out as a strangled moan. He wants to make sure if Kyungsoo is sure of what he's doing. He doesn't want the other to regret any of this later.

"Kyungsoo—" Jongin tries again, breath catching against his throat, but he's cut off when Kyungsoo yanks the elastic of his underwear and his sweatpants down with one swift motion.

"I know what I'm doing, so stop talking." Jongin hears Kyungsoo says, and he doesn't see his face but it feels as if Kyungsoo said the words against his ear.

And right then and there, Kyungsoo sucks Jongin off, with the latter arching his back and hitting his head against the headboard. The taste of copper touches Jongin's tongue, and he draws out even more from his bottom lip when Kyungsoo starts to bob his head.

Jongin screams as he comes around Kyungsoo's cold lips, his knees bent, his grip on the mirror faltering, and his free hand fisting at the sheets as sweat trickles down his forehead. 

It's only after they've cleaned up that Jongin realizes he hasn't heard the usual knock on Kyungsoo's door. He's sure that it's already well past his accustomed time with Kyungsoo.

"What really happened?"

They're lying head to head and Jongin doesn't see Kyungsoo's face, but he doesn't miss the sudden hitch in Kyungsoo's breathing.

"Tell me, Kyungsoo," Jongin prods, and he repeats it when Kyungsoo still doesn't answer.

Kyungsoo sighs. "I followed your advice, so I told my piano teacher that I'd rather study singing. I followed your advice, and it earned me a blow to the face."

"Are you blaming me now?" Jongin asks, and Kyungsoo giggles. "But at least you told them what you really want, right?" he says.

"Yes."

"Are you happy?"

A pause. Jongin listens to Kyungsoo's breathing.

And Kyungsoo answers, "Only when I'm with you." 

* * *

Jongin flips through the book Chanyeol had given him, desperately trying to find any information about other ways that would allow him to cross the invisible border between his world and Kyungsoo's.

He doesn't find anything, though, except for the fact that the things written on the book were the same as the ones on his previous history book. It seems like their world only knew very little about Dextro.

"You seem very interested in Dextro these days," Chanyeol mentions, coming closer to sit beside Jongin on the bed. His leg hits the box beside the dresser, and Jongin almost yelps when Chanyeol knocks it over. The box falls with a gentle thud, and Jongin inhales deeply through his mouth when he doesn't hear the sound of breaking glass.

And it's when it hits him.

Jongin faces the other, hand latching itself to the collar of Chanyeol's shirt. "Do you know how to make a mirror?"

Chanyeol inches his head backwards, only stopping when Jongin's grip doesn't let him go any farther. It's the first time he's seen this reaction from Jongin. "Yeah, it's pretty easy actually—"

"Then can you help me make one?"

"What? A mirror?" Chanyeol asks, eyebrows furrowing when Jongin nods. "No."

"Come on."

Chanyeol coaxes Jongin's hand off his shirt. "What do you need a mirror for anyway?"

There's a knock on there door, followed by the clattering of metal trays against the floor.

"I want to go there. I want to go to Dextro," Jongin mutters, earning him a confused look from Chanyeol. Sighing, he stands up to take the box off the ground. He places it in front of Chanyeol, putting it in between the latter's thighs.

"I need to meet someone there," Jongin adds.

It takes a while, give a few minutes, before Chanyeol drops his gaze onto the box before him. It doesn't weigh much and Chanyeol shakes it slightly like an excited child, acting as if the sound would give him any hint of what's inside.

Chanyeol opens the box, and Jongin watches as Chanyeol takes the mirror out with caution.

"How... how did you get this?"

"My grandfather left it for me as a coming of age gift. I don't know how he got it, though."

"Jongin," Chanyeol mutters, eyes not leaving the mirror's surface. "This is amazing."

"So now will you help me? I already have that much. We can combine it—"

"No, Jongin. No. We don't have access to any resources, and the materials we need are only available at Dextro. But even if we did," Chanyeol trails, pausing just to glance at Jongin, "I still wouldn't help you."

Jongin's fixes his eyes onto the reflection of Chanyeol's at the mirror. "Why not?"

"It's against the rules for us—people from Sinistro—to step into Dextro. This applies for those who live in Dextro as well."

"And where did you hear that?"

"From my job briefing."

Jongin notes the way Chanyeol says all of this without hesitation, without ever blinking, face locked in a solemn expression. He remembers that he doesn't have any idea about what Chanyeol does at central tower. He meets Chanyeol's eyes, squints, and says, "Just what kind of job do you have, Chanyeol?"

And Chanyeol blinks, eyes widening and lips caught agape. "I..." he starts, putting the mirror back inside its box. "There's a portal at central tower. They found out I had relatives who worked at the Ministry of Knowledge before... so they assigned me to work near it and aid the transport of products from Sinistro to Dextro."

Jongin's face lights up entirely with another expression. "That means you can help me. Chanyeol, you need to."

Chanyeol bites down on his bottom lip. He whispers, voice dropping low just in case they're being watched, "It's dangerous. They—The first thing they told us was to _never_ go across Dextro. It's become an unspoken rule to many ever since the day Sinistro was rid of mirrors, and I don't know what they'll do—what the control police will do if they catch you, Jongin."

"I don't care," Jongin vehemently says.

"Jongin, please think this through."

Chanyeol and Jongin end up staring at each other, both refusing to let their gazes go. Even after a minute, Jongin doesn't budge, and Chanyeol knows this, understands what this stubbornness means. And it's after another long minute that Chanyeol hangs his head, and gives in.

"Fine, we'll... see what we can do." 

The following days are spent with Chanyeol throwing book after book at Jongin; all of them concerning the world Jongin has now grown fascinated with. Jongin learns how people from Dextro wake, talk, walk, and live—manners, culture, arts, and political views. Jongin tries to learn them all.

Each day, Chanyeol teaches Jongin things he says are imperative if Jongin wants to survive and blend in with Dextro's society. He also doesn't fail to ask Jongin whether he's sure about going to the other side, and each day, Jongin doesn't hesitate to say that yes, he is.

"Are you sure about this?" Chanyeol croaks as he stacks books on top of Jongin's head for their lesson on 'proper posture'.

And Jongin just hums.

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

Chanyeol casts his stare down onto Jongin's eyelids, hands on each side of his waist and face sporting a confused look even when he knows Jongin wouldn't see it.

"Why? I mean, what's so special about this Kyungsoo guy?" Chanyeol looks for any change of expression on Jongin's face. "What's with him that makes you want to do all of this? Are you sure you'd be willing to die for him?"

Jongin doesn't answer. He doesn't answer because he doesn't exactly know _why_ himself, and the only plausible reason he could think of was because he's somehow grown a liking to Kyungsoo. But of course he didn't want to tell Chanyeol, so he chose to stay quiet.

And It was the only day where Jongin failed to answer all of Chanyeol's doubts.

Jongin doesn't tell Kyungsoo about his plans, and the latter doesn't seem to notice that something's up. They continue their daily routines although, sometimes, Kyungsoo doesn't show up, only doing so the next day to explain with a new bruise on his face. And whenever Jongin asks where Kyungsoo where he gets the bruises, Kyungsoo always comes up with an accident, and it repeats until Jongin finally learns how not to mind it. He knows Kyungsoo's busy, and it only makes him more determined to meet the other in person.

And on one night when Jongin finishes with cleaning up after an impromptu tea session, Chanyeol tells him with a pat on the back that he's ready, that he can now step into Dextro without ever being suspected as someone from Sinistro or someone who doesn't belong.

Now all they need is a plan. 

Jongin hums a tune as he forces a knife down onto a mirror frame's wooden surface, dragging it slowly to follow an inked pattern of broken lines. He's been working straight for hours, hands able to do work much longer before feeling any sign of fatigue due to practice. Jongin endures all of this just to get the day over with.

He tries to steal a glance at the gigantic digital clock situated at the far front of the working grounds. From where he's standing, Jongin could barely make out the blinking numbers on the clock's display, so he squints his eyes instinctively, and reads: '15:57' in angry red characters.

He has an hour and three minutes more of work.

During most days Jongin would hum a tune to help himself get through the working hours, but it's gotten tiring these past few days—Everything gets tiring when it's done repeatedly. So, today, he chooses to keep quiet. There's a faint sound of murmuring blending in with the silence, muffled sounds coming from both the machines and the people around him, and Jongin listens to it. He finds it calming, almost therapeutically so.

The alarm goes off. It's an hour too early.

"Attention all workers, please gather at the main hall immediately," the debilitated speakers say, crackling and echoing from each corner of the room.

Jongin stands still, watching as the people around him bustle into a crowd, trailing a beeline towards the main hall with practiced steps. He bucks his head forwards when a familiar arm latches around his neck.

"You have to move, you know," Sehun says. "They say there's big news."

Jongin doesn't try to take Sehun's arm away from his nape. "What news?"

And Sehun willingly loosens his grip, dropping his arm and letting his hand rest on Jongin's shoulder instead. "I don't know, but we'll find out."

"Attention all workers, please gather at the main hall immediately," the speaker repeats.

A white cloth is hung at the center of the main hall. Sehun drags Jongin into the crowd, and they squeeze through the sea of people until Sehun stops and they end up at the middle of the room. There's an aged man standing on top of the low platform in front of the white cloth. He's wearing a well-pressed white dress shirt, which contrasts and attracts more attention to the wrinkles on his face. Jongin hasn't seen the man before, but he could tell that he was a man of importance when the lights turned dim and the room turned quiet with just a snap of his fingers.

"Why are the police from the Ministry of Control here?" Jongin whispers, pointing his gaze to a group of armed men lined up against the main hall's corners, but Sehun doesn't answer.

A projector starts playing at the far right of the platform. Its light is directed to the white cloth, casting monochrome images from the local news.

"A number of daylight power lines were cut by several workers earlier at thirteen o'clock," the speakers announced, causing a burst of whispering to arise from the crowd. "It caused a delay in the daily 'lighting' operation around Central city. Meanwhile, places outside the city remained unaffected. So far, the Ministry of Control hasn't found a reason behind the incident but, nonetheless, the accused are reported to have been given the appropriate punishment for their actions."

The projector stops, the lights turn on, and the whispering dies down as the man from earlier walks back to the center of the platform.

"Due to the actions of your fellow workers, working hours will now end at sixteen o' clock. This will reduce everyone's pay by approximately one day," the man declares.

Another wave of whisperings arise from the crowd, but they remain hushed. Nobody ever shouts out their complaints. Of course nobody does, not when the control police were around.

The control police belonged to the Ministry of Control, a seemingly abandoned building near one of the walls that separated central city from the outskirts and from the inhabited areas where people who meddled with the laws were banished. They were armed and dressed in black, making it easier for them to go around the city at night. They rarely visit working grounds, which leads Jongin to think that there must be another reason as to why they were at central tower.

"This will continue on until the Ministry of Supply recovers the powerlines they've lost and are able to produce sufficient energy for the city's day-to-day operations," the man from earlier continues.. He ends his announcements with nothing but a dismissal and a curt 'thank you'.

"Well, that's a bummer," Sehun sighs, dropping his gaze as he and Jongin pass by the control police, and he only speaks again after he's sure they're well out of earshot. "Aren't you going to wait for Chanyeol?"

Jongin immediately looks around the room, hoping to spot Chanyeol in the flurry of people who are heading towards the exit.

"I don't know. Didn't the man say that working hours end at sixteen?"

"You should go and find him. Maybe he's still at his working place," Sehun suggests. But it's as if the control police heard him when gloved hands rest on the frame of his and Jongin's backs, pushing them just slightly towards the direction of the exit.

"All laborers are required to go back to their home units. Please make your way towards the exit immediately," one of them says, voice muffled and seemingly mechanic under his mask.

Jongin and Sehun obliges, seeing as the path towards the stairs are blocked. 

It's quiet when Jongin steps out of the bus, trailing slowly behind a line of people. Sehun walks closely beside him, and Jongin only notices when he hears a breathy exhale from the younger.

An eerie stillness wraps the entire area around the home units. A number of people are surrounding the electrical post beside the first building, and it's only then that Jongin realizes it's the _crime_ scene mentioned earlier by the local news. Jongin shuffles towards the crowd, with Sehun following him.

The sight wasn't all that surprising; the local news did mention everything including the number of powerlines and the time they were cut. A woman from outside the crowd shrieks, before pushing and forcing herself through the barricade of people. Her knees automatically plant themselves onto the ground, hands shaking as she smears blood onto her skirt, letting the head of a lifeless man rest on her lap as she cries and wails.

Jongin tears Sehun and himself away from the scene, eyes shutting as the woman's helpless cries grew louder and more desperate, asking for help even though there was nothing that could be done.

The local news did mention everything, except the number of casualties: three dead, and five injured.

"I'll... see you later," Jongin says as he lets go of Sehun's arm.

Sehun motions to stop the other but Jongin has already ran towards his home unit's entrance. Jongin goes to his shared room with Chanyeol, hoping to find the latter there. But as usual, Jongin's the first one home.

And it's only when the door bursts open later at night and a beaten-up figure slumps to the ground does Jongin find out that Chanyeol was one of the five who got injured.

Jongin panics. He frantically hauls Chanyeol from the ground, kicking the door close as he drags the other inside their room.

"What happened to you?"

"Somehow got involved. I was held up for questioning," Chanyeol scoffs, face contorting in pain as Jongin carefully drops him onto the bed. "But I have good news."

Jongin would opt to tell Chanyeol to shut up and let him tend to the fresh scars and bruises on his skin first, but the wide grin on the latter's face keeps him from doing so. "What is it?" he asks.

"We got a plan."

The plan, Jongin learns, isn't as complicated as he thought it would be.

"There will be a city-wide blackout tomorrow. The other underpaid workers from earlier told me they'll cut multiple powerlines from different locations at the exact same time. It will last for about five minutes," Chanyeol states, mindlessly scratching the swelling scars on his arm. "All you need to do is go up to the uppermost floor at central tower and find the transportation room. You _need_ to be there by twelve."

Jongin wets a cotton ball with alcohol before dabbing it gingerly over one of Chanyeol's scars. "Won't there be people guarding the portal?"

"No, since it'd be lunch time by then, but there will be security cameras around the area so you'll have to wait for the lights to turn off before you open the last door, find the portal, and jump into it as fast as you can. I'll give you my worker card so you can get inside the transportation room."

"Won't you need that again?"

"I could always lie about losing it and ask for another one."

Jongin unintentionally presses the cotton hard against Chanyeol's skin, earning him a pained hiss from the older.

"I won't be there," Chanyeol squeaks, sighing as the sting lightens.

Jongin doesn't say 'thank you' and 'sorry you got beat for me'. Instead, he puts bandages over Chanyeol's cuts.

"So please be careful, Jongin. Even after you cross the portal, you still have to be careful."

"What do you mean?" Jongin sits beside Chanyeol, placing the first aid kit below the bunk bed.

"The control police... they have this radar that could track anyone from the two worlds. To them, you'd appear as a blinking red in an otherwise black backdrop of Dextro's city."

"Once I get there, how long would I have until they find me?"

"From what I heard, the kind of radar they use won't be able to pinpoint your exact location. I'd say a few hours? Maybe a day? I'm not really sure, Jongin."

"A few hours?" Jongin asks, voice going a pitch higher. "Is there any way I could stop them from tracking me?"

"Yes, but not completely. We could either cut your arm and take out the little chip near your working numbers, or you could go to the city's outskirts once you step foot into Dextro. They can't track you there."

"The second one sounds nice."

"No it doesn't."

"So what's your plan?" Chanyeol suddenly asks after a slight pause. He could tell by Jongin's face that he caught the other male off guard. "Don't tell me you don't have one. Jongin you can't just go there without one."

"I have a plan, okay. Trust me," Jongin lies.

"What is it?"

"Go to Dextro. Find Kyungsoo and bring him here."

"That doesn't sound like a good plan." Chanyeol looks at Jongin with disbelief knitted in between his eyebrows. "Are you really sure about doing this?"

And Jongin only nods. 

When the lunch bell rings, Jongin drops his carving knife, wipes saw dust off his hands, and heads out towards the main hall. He passes by the cafeteria, promptly ignoring Sehun's calls as he rounds several corners.

He reaches the elevator shortly, curses under his breath as he watches its level indicator stop on every other floor. It takes more than a little while before the elevator doors open and as soon as the swarm of chattering people get off, Jongin steps inside.

The lift only goes up until the thirtieth floor and Jongin has to climb ten sets of stairs to get to the uppermost floor. He bumps into a couple of people along the way, all of them heading towards the cafeteria, and Jongin smiles wryly at the thought of how nobody knew about what he was planning. How, to everyone else, he was just going up the stairs.

Five floors until he reaches Chanyeol, Jongin notes how his every step echoes to the walls as the heel of his shoes click against marble. But the sound doesn't overshadow the loud beating inside his chest, not when all Jongin could think of was that this was it_._ This is finally the day he'd been waiting for. The day where he gets to step into Dextro, apply all the things he learned and practiced, and meet Kyungsoo in person.

Jongin looks up when a conversation emerges from the upper floor, only to drop his head low when a small group of control police marches towards him. The prospect of getting caught makes him bite the insides of his cheeks, even if there was no way that any of the armed men knew what he was about to do.

It's a few minutes past twelve when Jongin reaches the last floor, sweat sticking to his skin. It meant that he's running late and that the lights could go out any second from now. He runs through hallways, turns to corners, and slides past doors—all according to Chanyeol's instructions. He stops in front of the last door: a black metal door, just like how Chanyeol had described. He makes sure to stand a few meters away from it as he waits.

And just like planned, all the electricity inside the building is cut off. A culmination of loud gasps from a variation of voices resonate from the whole building. At that, Jongin quickly swipes Chanyeol's worker card on the door's scanner, opens the door, and shoves himself inside the room. With all the lights off, the only thing he could see was darkness. He uses his hands to guide him through what seemed to him was a cramped hallway, turns to his right, and—he finds the portal.

Through the portal, Jongin could see a full view of a place that seemed to mirror the room he's in. It looks like a misplaced portrait suspended in midair. Jongin inches slowly towards the portal, putting out his arms first before stepping forward. He doesn't look back.

Jongin shivers as he goes into the portal. There's a brief moment where Jongin feels like falling, plunging into the an abyss of icy water with no buoyancy, helplessly reaching out for something to hold onto, before the temperature shifts and his feet touches marble.

He's finally at Dextro.

Jongin doesn't waste time. He starts to run, seemingly throwing out his limbs in a reckless manner. It's past midnight at Dextro, which explained why the central tower was dark and void of people. But even so, Jongin doesn't forget to cover his face. He uses a hand and makes sure to keep his head low to hide his face from possibly hidden security cameras. His every step thuds loudly against the concrete floor, echoing from the walls to the ceiling. But he doesn't care, mind set on getting to the outskirts of the city as fast as possible.

He makes it out of the tower in one piece, pausing and panting as he tries to regain his breathing. When he looks up, it's all bright city lights and tall glass buildings. The streets are wet, indicating that it must've rained earlier, and the traffic lights bleed neon onto the pavement. Jongin stares in awe at the tall buildings; their glass exteriors reflected the same sky and moon, making them look as they were part of the night sky.

It's all that Jongin takes in before he starts running again, suddenly remembering that he only has less than an hour before the control police takes notice of a blinking string of numbers on their radar.

He reaches the outskirts of town just in time. 

Dextro's outskirts is almost the exact opposite of its main city, Jongin finds, as the pavement beneath his feet slowly disappears and turns into dirt.

"Watch where you're going, boy!" Jongin turns his head to a loud blaring behind him after he crosses a pathway, only to find an angry man shouting at him; he almost got run over by a vehicle.

All the buildings before him are made out of weathered wood instead of sleek glass, seemingly swaying with the breeze as they blend in perfectly in the dark of the night. The houses looked abandoned and the only thing that enabled Jongin to navigate through the area was the moonlight.

Jongin walks towards the houses. He desperately needed to find a place to spend the night as Dextro was getting colder by the minute. He fails to notice the shadow of a man behind him.

Strong hands grab the material of his collar, and there's a faint mix of grunts and the shuffling of feet before Jongin finds himself pushed up against a wooden wall.

"You! Who are you? What are you doing here?"

Jongin holds his breath as his eyes meet his attacker's gaze. He couldn't see the man's features clearly as they were in a dark alley, but he could tell that the man has done this a lot of times before.

"I'm from—I'm from the city," Jongin answers.

The man's tight grip on his collar doesn't falter. "Stop lying to me. People from the city don't dress like you! What do you want—"

"Yifan." Just then a voice interrupts, its beholder slowly emerging from the dark. "Put him down."

And Jongin doesn't know why, but his breathing becomes more ragged as the moonlight casts down onto the other man's face, revealing a wrinkled and smiling face he hasn't seen for years.

"Jongin? Jongin is that you?"

"You know this guy, _gramps_?"

"He's my grandson." 

"So you're gramps grandson, huh?" the man from earlier—Yifan—says as he takes a sip from his mug of tea. The expression on his face from earlier has long been replaced by amiableness, as if he never held Jongin in a choke hold. The man looked like he was in his late twenties, face only having the slightest mar of aging under his eyes.

They're inside a house with only two rooms split into a kitchen and a living room.

"I'm Yifan. I met your grandfather the day I got banished from the city for stealing too much," the man adds.

And Jongin just nods, eyes glued to his feet. Then, the floorboards creak, followed by a low whispering, and Jongin feels Yifan stand up and walk away.

"Jongin," a scruffy voice starts, and Jongin dips his head lower at the familiarity of it. "Jongin, look at me."

Jongin still doesn't look up.

"Jongin—"

"How could you leave us?" Jongin voices out. His grip around the mug between his thighs trembles, tightens. "How—How could you leave me? Before Yixing, you were the only family I had."

One of them heaves a sigh.

"I thought you were dead. You were dead to us," Jongin continues through gritted teeth.

"Jongin, let me explain."

This time, Jongin is the one who exhales a sigh. He sets the mug down onto the makeshift table before him, making sure to keep his head down as he tries to blink the budding sting away from his eyes.

"I've made a lot of bad decisions before, and for that I am terribly sorry. That's why I always told you to think first before jumping into conclusions. Me—I came here because I thought something between me and someone from Dextro would work out. I was wrong." Jongdae smiles weakly to himself. "I knew it would be hard for me to come back, so I left that mirror for you. So you could find me."

Jongin looks up, letting a tear trail down from his eye and to his cheek. He unclenches his fists, nails leaving tiny crescents on his palms.

Jongdae gives him a bitter smile before standing up. "I know it'll be hard for you to forgive me, but I really do want to say sorry."

Jongin sleeps on the couch that night. He sleeps with the feeling of calmness, like a deep piercing thorn had just been picked out from his heart. 

The next day comes, and Jongin's starts with the smell of coffee wafting and squeezing through the air. He sits up to the sight of his grandfather making breakfast.

"You're awake," Jongdae smiles at him.

The front door squeaks open, and Yifan comes inside carrying a newspaper on top of a bundle of firewood.

"This is all I could gather, Pa," Yifan says as he sets the bundle on the ground beside the stove.

"That's already enough, thank you. Breakfast is served."

Jongin joins them a moment later, drawing out a chair beside Yifan. He plops down without hearing any objections, and starts to fill his plate.

"So you gather firewood here?" Jongin asks.

Jongdae and Yifan share looks before Jongdae answers, "Yes. The electricity here gets cut off at night to give way for the _nightlights_. You know, nightlights are the opposite of daylights at Sinistro."

"I know."

Jongdae presses his lips into a thin line before turning the old TV set at their living room on just as he puts the newspaper down onto the table.

"There's nothing big so far, except for the rumors of an ongoing rebellion at Sinistro. Jongin, is this true?" the old man asks.

And Jongin nods before he picks the newspaper up. He doesn't see a single article about any rebellion on the front page, instead, he lays eyes on a photographed picture of the person he wants to see.

"Kyungsoo," Jongin mutters, earning him a quick glance from Yifan.

"Kyungsoo? From the Do family?" Yifan chimes while chewing his food.

Jongdae turns to Jongin. "You know him?"

The TV begins to sound like a low buzzing from the living room as Jongdae looks at Jongin beseechingly.

"I do. I met him back at Sinistro through the mirror you gave me."

Jongdae turns the TV off. "Is he the reason why you came here? Did he ask you to come here?"

"Yes, and No. I came here because I want to see him." Jongin says, and he watches as the old man shuts his eyes tight and sighs.

"Jongin." Jongdae runs a hand through his greying hair. "You can't make the same mistake as I did."

Jongin feels something twisting inside his stomach. "I can't cause I won't, _Pa_," he spits out emphasis on the last word. "This is different. Unlike you, I didn't leave anyone for this."

"Did you even think this through?" Jongdae exclaims.

And Jongin matches his pitch. "Why? Did you when you left me and Yixing?"

"_Damnit_, Jongin, that was years ago!"

There's a momentary pause, silence only broken by the sound of Jongdae's troubled breathing and Yifan's words of excuse before leaving the room. Jongdae pours himself a glass of water, and Jongin doesn't miss the tremble in his grip around the glass.

"I'm sorry," Jongin mutters, shaking his head. "I did think about it, and Kyungsoo... he was getting these bruises. I just... I think I have to get him away from all of that."

"Did he ever tell you how he got them?" Jongdae asks after he calming himself.

"No, he didn't." Jongin shakes his head even more. "But I have to at least try, Pa. You have to help me."

Jongdae hesitates for a while, before finally giving in. "Okay. I'll help you." 

* * *

Jongin finds himself looking and trailing his eyes up at inches of polished cement glazed over by golden paint. The pillars of the opera house before him are adorned by intricate and rich designs, each having gargoyles that stared down at Jongin with lifeless eyes. Jongin used to only see them inside books.

The opera house, according to Jongdae, is one of the places Jongin could find Kyungsoo; it's where he performs his concerts. And it's just a few miles away from the tall protective walls that separated the city from the outskirts, which was convenient for Jongin if ever the control police would suddenly show up and chase him.

Jongin presses palms down his chest in an attempt to straighten the invisible creases on his dress shirt. He motions to rake fingers through his hair but stops upon remembering that Yifan had already fixed it for him. He checks his breath by mouthing out words with a hand over his lips, fixes his tie, and heaves a sigh before walking into the building.

The smell of aged wood and varnish greets him as he makes his way towards the opera hall, blindly maneuvering through maroon curtains and dim lighting. The building is empty, and it's not soon until Jongin hears the muffled sound of a piano being played from the distance.

The entrance to the opera hall creaks open as Jongin slips inside, and his eyes instantly finds their way to the lone figure at the center of the stage.

Jongin takes the seat closest to him, slowly, gaze glued to the stage, and hands trembling as they guide and lever his weight before he lets his body fall onto the cushion.

Under the stage lights, Kyungsoo looked beautiful, like he was born only for the sole purpose of being on stage—Not to be touched and marred by just anyone. His hands moved to the sound with grace, eyes closed and neck arched upwards. Jongin traces his stare down to the material of Kyungsoo's pressed white shirt tucked under pressed white slacks, which contrasted with black shoes that shone even under the shadow of the grand piano before him.

Jongin stays quiet, mind blank as he watches Kyungsoo play. He slouches against his seat as if to disappear behind the rows of red velvet seats. His presence is made known only after Kyungsoo reaches the last note, hands suspended midair.

Kyungsoo's eyes flutter open, heavy and dark as they meet Jongin's stare. There's a pause before Jongin spots a sense of recognition in Kyungsoo's eyes and he takes it as a sign to stand up and walk towards the other male. Kyungsoo stays on his seat, unmoving as the hall fills up with echoes of Jongin's every step towards him.

"You're... taller than me," is the first thing that comes out of Kyungsoo's lips as soon as Jongin appears in front of him, close enough for him to touch. He gives Jongin a quick once over before turning his head up to look into Jongin's eyes.

"And you play very well," Jongin says, breathless as he catches Kyungsoo's gaze.

Kyungsoo doesn't look away as he inches closer to Jongin, and Jongin tries his best to stay calm.

"How?"

Kyungsoo inches closer and closer, until Jongin can feel Kyungsoo's breath brush lightly over his skin, can smell Kyungsoo's scent in the air he breathes in.

"A friend helped me—"

And just like that, Jongin feels soft lips crashing onto his. Kyungsoo pulls Jongin by the tie, detaching his lips just to whisper a curt 'explain later' against Jongin's right ear. Jongin doesn't hold himself back, seeing as this would the first time he wouldn't kiss Kyungsoo with his hands holding onto a mirror. He grabs Kyungsoo by the waist, guiding the older backwards until he's pushing Kyungsoo against the grand piano.

Jongin pulls Kyungsoo closer, and Kyungsoo moans against his mouth. Kyungsoo reaches behind his back for support, only to rest his hand over the piano keys. Cacophonous notes echo inside the hall as random piano keys are smashed every time Kyungsoo shifts and moves.

Kyungsoo only pulls away once footsteps resonate from the backstage, and he pushes Jongin off gently, opting to fix his hair and button his shirt. Jongin reads the situation and he rights himself just in time before someone steps in and looks at Kyungsoo.

"Master has ordered for you to come home, Kyungsoo. He's expecting guests for dinner and he wants you to be there on time," the person says, voice somehow familiar to Jongin.

"_Clarence_, please tell father that I will be bringing a friend with me," Kyungsoo says.

Jongin freezes in spot as the man—Clarence—shoots him a scrutinizing glare.

"Very well. Sir, your chauffeur is ready," Clarence bows down, slightly, before turning his way towards the exit.

Once Clarence moves out of earshot, Kyungsoo sticks to Jongin and whispers, "He's the one who knocks on my door every morning." 

They get to Kyungsoo's home through a limousine that drove to an extravagant mansion perched on top of an elevation which separated grass from the concrete pavements of Dextro's city. Inside, Kyungsoo's house is embellished walls standing on polished white marble. Jongin finds himself sticking to the red carpet spread from the entrance towards the hallway as he looks around the room with awe, counting how much everything around him costs with lifetimes spent working as currency.

Kyungsoo leads the way towards the ballroom where the guests flocked together, holding glasses of white champagne for display. A server offers Jongin a glass, and Jongin nods as he takes it from the tray with caution. Kyungsoo excuses himself, heading towards a group of men in black suits and women with powdered faces.

Jongin is left at the center of the room, feeling out of place even when his body is wrapped in layers expensive garment. Almost everything around him is something new, something he's never had the pleasure of experiencing before.

He finds a place and stands by the bonsai plant near the ballroom's lavishly decorated entrance. There, Jongin stares at Kyungsoo from the distance—a view where the finest example of Dextro's social culture and grandeur is laid out boldly in front of him. He watches how the older smiles and mutters practiced words of gratefulness, how Kyungsoo blends in perfectly with the crowd, and how the crowd accepts and drinks his whole being. And it's only then that Jongin realizes that maybe crossing the border between their worlds didn't make any changes at all; Kyungsoo is still a whole different world away from him.

Jongin straightens his posture as soon as he sees Kyungsoo walk towards him with a woman following closely behind.

"This is Kim Jongin. I met him a few months ago," Kyungsoo says, "Jongin, this is Mrs. Smith, she's a vocal teacher."

"Oh, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kim," the woman says, holding out a gloved hand towards Jongin.

And Jongin takes the woman's hand gingerly, placing it in the middle of his hand before leaning in and giving it a light kiss. "The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Smith."

The woman smiles at him. "So, Mr. Kim, what do you do? Judging from the color of your hair, I think you're probably an artist."

"Yes, I am."

"Ah, rebellious youngsters like you. Always having this urge to dye their hair darker than their natural color," the woman sighs, and Jongin takes it as a note to look around the ballroom. There was only one other person who had the same hair color as his, others having theirs in the shades of either white or blond.

"He's shown me his works before. I found them pretty. I've never seen someone use the same style as he does," Kyungsoo says.

"What medium do you use?"

Jongin hesitates. "I use charcoal."

"Charcoal? Well, I must say, that is an uncommon style here in Dextro, since its use originated from Sinistro—"

"You know very well that I don't like hearing that word, _Caroline_," a deep voice interrupts.

"Father—"

"Right, Kyungsoo?" the man adds, and Jongin watches as Kyungsoo reaches a hand up to his right cheek, to the spot where his bruise used to be.

"Have you finished greeting the guests?" the man—Kyungsoo's father—asks Kyungsoo, eyes set on Jongin.

Kyungsoo only nods.

"Then why don't you show your friend around the house?"

"Yes, father." 

Kyungsoo drags Jongin throughout the house. He takes Jongin to the garden, where fresh flowers whose petals were adorned with makeshift dew bloomed even during the night; to the infinity pool, where Kyungsoo tells about how he fell into the water while trying to reach for a falling leaf when he was seven. Inside the house, Kyungsoo recites something about each room like he's been tasked to memorize their descriptions. He tells Jongin about how the has been passed to countless generations of their family, and Jongin only half-listens, mind too troubled over what had happened earlier at the ballroom.

Upon reaching the fourth floor, Jongin stops walking while Kyungsoo trails on how each room is optimized for possible guests.

It doesn't take long before Kyungsoo notices. "Jongin? Are you okay?"

"Your father hurts you?" Jongin asks.

Kyungsoo visibly sighs. "He only used to. You don't have to worry about it."

"Kyungsoo," Jongin attempts but he stops, mid-sentence, when he sees Kyungsoo raise a hand up.

"It's part of my father's discipline. I was punished for skipping multiple piano lessons."

And Jongin gives up right then and there, knowing that he didn't have the right to meddle with Kyungsoo's life. After all, they were not in any kind of commitment; they were only friends.

But Jongin finds out otherwise when, upon reaching the middle of the floor, Kyungsoo drags him by the hand and hauls him into a room.

Kyungsoo is quiet, head turned down to his feet as he fiddles with the collar of his dress shirt.

It's not until Kyungsoo looks up and meets Jongin's eyes that Jongin realizes that the older has been crying.

Jongin looks into Kyungsoo's eyes, and under the moonlight that shone through the white curtains of the room, he finds out that Kyungsoo's eyes aren't really completely black after all as brown hues become more prominent under the light.

He cups Kyungsoo's face, plants a kiss over his nose as he whispers, "Don't worry. I'll help you get out of here."

Kyungsoo nods, wiping his eyes as he tilts his head to give Jongin a peck on the lips on tiptoe. Jongin kisses him back, but Kyungsoo pulls away shortly.

"Is there something wrong?" Jongin asks and he watches as Kyungsoo dips his head.

"It's just that—now that you're here. I just thought that we can... do a lot of things we didn't get to do before."

"Like what?"

Jongin doesn't need to ask more when he hears the click of the doorknob pierce through the silence. He gets a bit startled when Kyungsoo pushes him up against the wall, one knee pressed dangerously close to his crotch.

"Can I?"

It was the last thing any of them said before everything rushes into a flurry of wet open mouthed kisses, suppressed moans, and hands all over heated skin. They stripped, fine wool and imported cotton pooling and crinkling under their feet. And they kissed and fucked with the urgency and neediness of drowning men, slowly and helplessly losing themselves in a whirlpool of unfathomable desire.

And after everything, when both of them lie breathless on their backs, Jongin makes sure to ask Kyungsoo before his eyelids betray him.

"Are you happy?"

"Yes."


	3. Chapter 3

Jongin wakes up to darkness, when the clock by Kyungsoo's bedside is blinking 4:32 and when Kyungsoo's labored breathing is the only sound that fills the silence. He sits up, hugs himself as a cold breeze makes its way into the large french window, ruffling and blowing the white curtains in its way.

Kyungsoo stirs beside him, soft white fringe covering the half of his eyelids like snow on top of mountain peaks, and Jongin watches as the older languidly pulls the covers up to his shoulders.

"Jongin!"

Jongin hears his name being called, syllables caught in a sibilant whisper.

"Jongin!"

He hears it again, this time a tad bit louder. He turns around, only to see a face peeping into the frame of Kyungsoo's hand mirror—It's Chanyeol.

"Chanyeol? Why—"

"Jongin," Chanyeol starts, turning his head to both sides as if to check if they were being watched. "The police—They know it's you."

"What?"

"There has been talks going around the city about how someone from Sinistro broke into Dextro. All workers were asked to participate in a roll call earlier," Chanyeol breathes out, and Jongin watches as the older visibly swallows. "I tried my best to cover for you. Trust me, I did. But they still found out."

Jongin feels his heart hammer violently against his chest. Blood rushes to his eardrums, and he forgets how to breathe for a moment.

"It won't be long until they come for you, Jongin. You have to come back here. Now."

"I can't. I still have things to figure out."

"Jongin—"

Jongin walks puts the mirror face down before he walks towards the room's veranda, unbuttoned shirt flying open as he strides towards the stone railings. There's a plethora of red and blue lights from the distance, and Jongin widens his eyes once his ears recognize the blaring of police cars.

"Shit!" Jongin curses, limbs shaking and stuttering, as he runs back inside the room.

He picks his jeans up from the floor, pulls it hastily over his boxers, buckles his belt, and fumbles with the buttons of his shirt. He has to get away as soon as possible.

"Jongin?"

Said man looks back frantically, and he finds Kyungsoo awake and sitting up on the bed. Kyungsoo is rubbing his eyes with the back of hands. The collar of his satin shirt falls loosely off of one side of his shoulders and there are traces of dried up sweat on his exposed skin, making his skin glimmer under the moonlight. Jongin doesn't miss how the shadows on Kyungsoo's skin fall onto the trail of red marks along the older's collarbones.

"Where are you going?" Kyungsoo croaks. The sirens grow louder.

"I have to go Kyungsoo. The police are after me." Jongin walks toward the other male.

And Kyungsoo latches his hands onto the material of Jongin's sleeves. "What are you saying?"

"I'll explain later. I'll—" Jongin's voice breaks, continues on a higher pitch, "come back. I promise."

Kyungsoo forces a kiss against Jongin's lips, and Jongin has to coax the older's fingers off his shirt.

And just like that, Jongin gets down through the metal stairs of Kyungsoo's balcony and he runs, and runs, and runs towards the outskirts as fast as he can, deliberately going through dark back street lanes and squeezing into cramped alleyways to avoid the police.

He reaches the outskirts without a scratch, and his fingers come up to grip around an inexistent fabric below his collar as he tries to catch his breath; he had forgotten and left his tie under Kyungsoo's own litter of stripped-off clothing. 

* * *

Jongin doesn't come back for a day, opting to lie low and stay hidden so that the police could get off his back before he decides to come back to Kyungsoo. And when he does come back, it's to the sight of Kyungsoo staring blankly into his hand mirror.

Jongin knocks at the glass door which separated the balcony from Kyungsoo's bedroom. Startled, Kyungsoo's eyes light up and he rushes to open the door for Jongin before throwing himself onto the younger.

"You're okay." Kyungsoo's voice quivers as he buries his head into Jongin's chest. "I thought—I thought something bad happened to you already, Jongin—"

"I'm sorry if I got you worried, but I'm here now. I'm okay," Jongin reassures the older.

Kyungsoo holds Jongin tighter. "They came here, and they asked for you. But I didn't tell them anything. I won't let them catch you."

If only being with you wasn't forbidden in the first place, Jongin thinks, but he doesn't voice it out.

"How did you get away?"

"The police uses this radar that can track me but it only works in the city, so I got away by going out of town, to the outskirts."

"But why were they chasing you?"

Jongin sighs. "I'm not supposed to be here. We're not supposed to be together."

"What do you mean?"

Jongin is the first one to break away from Kyungsoo's embrace. He sits on the edge of Kyungsoo's bed, one hand raking through his hair in frustration. "I don't know. Chanyeol said it's become an unspoken rule."

Kyungsoo takes the space beside Jongin. He slowly inches closer to the latter. "You mean we're breaking rules?"

Jongin nods.

"Is there a punishment?"

"Yes." Jongin feels Kyungsoo shift and he turns to the latter to see how Kyungsoo looks at him with a troubled expression.

"Jongin that's..."

"I know."

Kyungsoo shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing and forming creases on his forehead. "You could get hurt!"

Crescents are imprinted onto the skin of Jongin's palms as he folds his hands into tight fists. "What do you want me to do? This is the only way I can be with you."

Silence. Kyungsoo looks away. When he looks back into Jongin's eyes, he clasps Jongin's hands tightly around his own.

"You told me that they can't track you in the outskirts. We could go there Jongin. We could leave now and stay there forever."

Jongin retrieves his hands from Kyungsoo. "No, Kyungsoo. No. We can't do that. You have so much to live for here in Dextro. Going there with me would take away all of it."

"But they don't matter to me as much as you do. Please, Jongin," Kyungsoo pleads, "I want _this_. I want us. Don't you?"

"I do."

"Then promise me we'll end up being together."

Jongin hesitates, tries his best to avoid jumping into conclusions, and he feels guilty for the blinding smile that blooms on Kyungsoo's face after he says, "I promise."

Because the truth is, Jongin doesn't really know if he'd be able to keep the promise. 

* * *

"You have to see this," Jongdae says, demands. He leads Jongin in front of the TV.

The Local News is on, except it's not on its usual time slot. And Jongin's breath catches in his throat when the image of a blindfolded man being dragged to a stage is shown on the screen.

"To the person who went into Dextro and even had the audacity to break all the sacred rules that have binded our worlds for years, this is a warning for you," a man in all black states in front of a microphone stand.

"You know who you are, and we do too." At that, the blindfolded man is commanded to kneel down, and without warning, they take off the cloth from the man's eyes to reveal a beaten up Chanyeol.

Jongin jaw clenches, and Jongdae holds and restrains him by the shoulders, forcing him to listen as the announcement continues. "So if you value your friend's life, surrender yourself immediately at the Ministry of Control. And please do bear in mind that the control police are also onto you just in case you don't do the right thing."

The Local News disconnects, and the shopping center chimes back on.

Jongin panics. "They have Chanyeol! What should I do?"

"Calm down. Do you have a plan?" Jongdae asks.

"Kyungsoo and I—we're planning to run away here in the outskirts and just live here."

"You can't do that anymore," Yifan says, "Pa and I have been preparing to leave this place ever since I overheard from others that the Ministry of Control is planning to burn this place down."

"We could—we could go to Sinistro's outskirts instead!" Jongin desperately states.

Jongdae tightens his grip around Jongin's shoulders. "Jongin, listen to me. There's enough time for you to settle things with Kyungsoo. I doubt that the Ministry is going to kill just to find you. They don't work that way, and I know since I've been in your situation before."

"But do know that there's a rebellion going on at Sinistro. Do you really think Kyungsoo can survive there? Don't you think he'd be better off living out his planned life here at Dextro? Don't jump into conclusions, Jongin."

Jongin nods, barely understanding everything. His hands shake even when they're curled up into fists. 

* * *

The next day comes without a blink of an eye for Jongin, and he rushes to Kyungsoo. He's filled with the gruesome combination of anxiety and hope. Anxiety for all of the things he'd caused by going to Dextro, and hope for the thin chance that all of it will end like how he wants it to, with Kyungsoo by his side.

He reaches Kyungsoo's room, and his heart sinks to the pit of his stomach when he's greeted by the sight of a crying Kyungsoo. It sinks even more, deeper until all Jongin can feel is emptiness, when Kyungsoo cries and smiles from joy when he tells Jongin the good news.

"Father has allowed me to sing! To sing, Jongin, it's my dream!" Kyungsoo says, and he's jumping in joy.

The thin chance of being together with Kyungsoo becomes thinner with the echo of Jongdae's words inside Jongin's mind.

"Aren't you happy for me?" Kyungsoo asks when Jongin remained standing still, unmoving.

So Jongin forces a smile. "I am. I'm very happy, actually."

"Why? Is there something you wanted to tell me?"

"Nothing. Nevermind."

"Oh, okay. Let's celebrate?"

Jongin never got to ask Kyungsoo that day.

The next two days are spent with Jongin having the intention to tell his plans to Kyungsoo, only to be stopped by Kyungsoo telling him another set of good news. Through the days, Jongin learns that Kyungsoo has started his vocal training, that Kyungsoo's singing got praised by his teacher then his father, and that he's practicing hard for an upcoming concert that involved only his presence and his voice. Life seemed to be getting better for Kyungsoo, and it made Jongin's resolve grow thinner each day.

By the fourth day, Jongin thinks that maybe this isn't love. That maybe what they have is an infatuation, a loose black thread amongst their red ones. But Kyungsoo doesn't fail to make Jongin's heart flutter even with just the sound of his melodious voice. Jongin has never felt anything akin to what he feels when he's with Kyungsoo, and the realization makes him more confused than how he already is.

"My father hates Sinistro, and he slapped me when I mentioned it in front of him," Kyungsoo says.

"Really?" Jongin asks. They're lying down on Kyungsoo's bed, body pushed closely agaisnt each other.

"Yes." Kyungsoo shifts his position, choosing to lie on his belly and use his elbows to prop himself up as he looks up to Jongin. "Do you think we're like Romeo and Juliet?"

Jongin's eyebrows arch at the sudden question. "Yes. Somehow."

"Well I don't."

There's a palpable glaze over Kyungsoo's eyes, one that made Jongin believe that Kyungsoo's in love with him.

"Why not?"

And Kyungsoo whispers, voice way under his normal pitch, before pressing his lips against Jongin's. "Because I think we have a better chance at getting our happily ever after." 

They made love every night, and, sometimes, love made them. Jongin takes the time given to him to memorize everything that made Kyungsoo: the way his lips stretches into a heart whenever he smiles, the way his eyes crinkle into crescents when he laughs, and the number of moles that dotted and mapped out his skin.

On the seventh day, Jongin thinks that maybe they could make this last.

"Do you know that myth about finding your other half?" Kyungsoo plays with Jongin's hair as they sit against the end of his bed.

Jongin vaguely remembers what Chanyeol had told him before. About how their 'working numbers' would glow if they met their other half for the first time at the age of twenty. "I haven't heard the one from Dextro yet," Jongin says.

His eyes travel to the numbers on Kyungsoo's forearm. He runs a finger over it, making Kyungsoo giggle.

"They say that our worlds are opposites of each other, which means that my other half would be someone from Sinistro," Kyungsoo explains. "Do you believe it? Because if you do, then it'll mean that I've found my other half."

Jongin is about to say yes, but he's cut off by the sound of police cars. Kyungsoo lets go of his hand and stands up to look through the window.

"I have to run Kyungsoo," Jongin says.

Kyungsoo grabs hold of his hand. "No. We'll do it together. Let's go to the outskirts now."

"We can't. The Ministry of Control has already burned it down."

"Then where are you going?"

Jongin doesn't answer, standing up to take his things, but Kyungsoo understands.

"No, Jongin. No. You have to take me with you! We can go to the outskirts there!" Kyungsoo looks at Jongin. "You promised me."

"Kyungsoo—"

"Please, Jongin. Please."

And so they run. 

Jongin holds Kyungsoo's hand tightly in his as they run towards the Central tower. The police are not far from behind them, others already out of their cars, and Jongin leads the way into the building.

His heart races as his every step echoes against the marble floor, just like before, but this time he's with Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo.

Jongin turns his head towards Kyungsoo, and he doesn't miss how the older's head is turned away from him and towards the city, towards Dextro. Jongdae's words resurface inside Jongin's mind.

_Do you really think Kyungsoo can survive there? Don't you think he'd be better off living out his planned life here at Dextro?_

They reach the uppermost floor, with the police reaching closely behind them.

"Fugitives!" they say.

"Stop!" they say.

Upon reaching the inside of the transportation room, Jongin halts, squeezing Kyungsoo's hand tightly around his. He needs time. He needs time to think about his decision of taking Kyungsoo with him. He mustn't jump into conclusions; this might be a mistake. They need time, but it's exactly what they don't have.

And it's only when Jongin sees the way Kyungsoo looks back before crossing the portal, the way Kyungsoo's head is still faced towards Dextro, does he make up his mind.

As soon as they set foot into Sinistro, Jongin takes one more look at Kyungsoo. He feels a sting in his eyes as Kyungsoo looks at him expectantly. But he has to do it. It's for the best.

"I'm sorry, Kyungsoo," Jongin mutters, tears making their way to his cheeks, before he closes his eyes and—He pushes Kyungsoo back into the portal.

It all happens in seconds. Kyungsoo lands safely back at Dextro before Jongin hears the sound of breaking glass and something hitting against flesh.

There's an excruciating pain in Jongin's head, and then everything turns black. 

* * *

A knock on the door makes Jongin turn his attention away from the window frame before him.

The door to his working shack creaks open and Chanyeol peeks inside, grinning widely, "He's calling for you, Jongin."

"Okay. Tell him I'll be there in a second."

"Hey," Chanyeol says, and Jongin hums. He clears his throat before continuing, "I've been telling you this for months, but thanks for coming back for me."

And Jongin dips his head down. "Why wouldn't I, right?"

"Yeah."

Jongin picks up the black cloth that he'd left lying abandoned on the floor since morning and pulls it over to cover his work table. He takes off his gloves and turns off the light bulb before rushing inside the house and into the kitchen, welcoming the sudden change of temperature after having spent long hours at his working shack with a huge grin.

Jongdae and Yixing greet him with wrinkled smiles.

"You're looking better," Jongdae says.

Yixing walks up towards Jongin and he touches the scar on Jongin's head. "It has healed very well."

Jongdae rolls his eyes at this, "Don't be silly, Yixing. All wounds heal."

Sighing, Jongin scratches the skin of his nape.

"Well, don't waste time. He's a busy man too, right?" Yixing says, and Jongin nods as he quickly makes his way up the stairs. "Come back down for supper when you're finished!"

Jongin makes his ways inside his room, and the mirror on his study table has turned into a portal.

"Hey," Jongin greets.

Kyungsoo grins. "How have you been?"

"Good." Jongin scratches the skin of his nape—It's a new habit he'd picked up after he got injured on the head and the neck; he used to scratch the scars there.

It's been months after the incident. Jongin's punishment ended up with him being banished to the outskirts, which was not really that much of a punishment to him because he could do everything he wanted in the outskirts, like pursuing the arts. The government had chosen to spare his life in order to avoid possible rebellions. Jongdae had been banished with him too, as well as Yi Fan, but the latter was left at Dextro where he truly lived.

"How about you?"

"Same."

"Are you happy?" Jongin asks, just like before.

And Kyungsoo answers, "Yes."

There's a pause where Jongin looks at the smile on Kyungsoo's face, small and fragile as if it could be easily turned upside down by the wind.

Kyungsoo clears his throat. "Actually... I wrote a new song."

"Really? I'm very proud of you," Jongin lets out a laugh. "What's it about?"

Jongin doesn't know why but Kyungsoo looks away. He notices the way the older swallows visibly before he looks back at Jongin with glazed eyes. "It's about—" Kyungsoo starts, and his voice breaks, reconnects on a softer pitch, "—how the numbers on my forearm glowed on the night I first met you." 

* * *

**A/N: **this is was originally written for the 3daysofkaisoo exchange! But this version has a little tweaking done to it mainly because I was a bit disappointed of the first outcome, but it's nothing major! If you've reached this,I'd like to thank you for reading! It's not required but I'd really appreciate it if you guys would leave me some feedback! It would really help me in terms of improvement. You can also leave questions/concerns about the story for me to answer. Once again, thank you :D


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